


Unforgettable

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim forgets the unforgettable after receiving a blow to the head, and in the aftermath, forges a new relationship with Blair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unforgettable

## Unforgettable

by Natalie L

Author's website:  <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm>

The Sentinel and its characters do not belong to me. They are owned by Pet Fly and Paramount. No profit is being made from this work of fan fiction.

Orphan plot bunny courtesy of Patt Rose--thanks, Patt, for the inspiration. Many thanks to my talented betas, Mary and KimberlyFDR, who help keep me in line and fix my mistakes.

Song lyrics--//Unforgettable//, sung by Nat King Cole

* * *

* * *

_Unforgettable, that's what you are_

_Unforgettable, though near or far_

_Like a song of love that clings to me_

_How the thought of you does things to me_

* * *

His head felt like Thor was hammering away on his skull. Lifting a hand, he felt the bandages encircling his temples. A hand grazed his, and he opened his eyes. A concerned young man looked down on him with the widest blue eyes he had ever seen. Chestnut curls hung around the square jaw, softening the hard lines. Full lips pouted in a worried frown. 

"It's about time, Jim! You had me scared witless! The doctor said it was just a mild concussion, but when you didn't wake up..." 

The voice was melodious, and deeper than he expected. He reached up a hand to caress the man's cheek. 

"What happened?" Jim asked, interrupting the spiel. 

"You don't remember?" The frown returned. Jim shook his head. The young man sighed and flopped into a chair next to the hospital bed. "You were chasing Mattson along the second story balcony of the Comfy Inn and he opened a door in your face. You stumbled against the railing, which broke, and you landed on your truck. The fall knocked you unconscious." 

"That would explain the anvil chorus inside my skull," Jim said thoughtfully. "Did Mattson get away?" 

"Rafe cornered him as he was coming down the back stairs. We have him in custody." 

"Good. Good." Jim nodded, and then thought better of the activity as the throbbing increased. "Think you could convince the doctors to give me something for this headache?" he asked. 

"They already have you shot to the gills," the man answered. Lowering his voice, he leaned closer to Jim. "It's your Sentinel senses, man. They're wreaking havoc with the pain killers again." 

Jim blinked to clear his vision, which had begun to blur. He pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed at his eyes. "Well, doesn't that beat all," he sighed. "And I could really use a hit of morphine right now." 

"No, really, Jim," the young man insisted, "you couldn't. I mean, I know you're hurting, but we're going to have to find another way to ease the pain. The doctors won't give you any more painkillers just yet; maybe a relaxation exercise. Try closing your eyes and taking a deep breath." The man demonstrated by closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath, raising exquisite hands from his waist to his shoulders as he inhaled, then letting them drop as the air rushed from his lungs. 

Jim smiled. Whoever this young man was, he was a pleasure to watch and listen to. He could almost forget the throbbing in his head as he concentrated on every word, every motion made by his companion. Finally, he had to know. "Who are you, anyway? My physical therapist?" 

Startled blue eyes looked sharply at him. The young man sprang to his feet and leaned over the bed. "You're joking, right? Jim, tell me you're joking." 

"Joking?" Confusion filled him. Joking about what? 

"Come on, man. You're scaring me here. Don't do this." 

"I-I'm sorry," Jim said softly. "Should I know you?" 

"Damn straight, you should!" The words exploded from the man's full lips. He suddenly turned solicitous, as though embarrassed by his outburst. "Sorry. I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't be yelling at you. What can you tell me that you remember?" 

Jim thought a moment. "My name is Jim Ellison, and I'm a detective with the Major Crimes Unit of the Cascade PD," he began. "I was working a case involving a major jewel heist. I remember tailing Mattson to the motel, but I don't remember the accident." 

"And me?" 

Jim's face warmed with a smile, and he reached up to cup the man's chin. "How could I ever forget you?" he asked. "You're the most unforgettable man I've ever met." 

The young man breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. 

"But who are you?" Jim looked up into eyes now clouded with concern. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know. If I had ever met you, I'm certain I'd never forget." 

"My name's Blair; Blair Sandburg," the young man introduced himself softly. "I'm your friend, your partner, your Guide." 

"Guide?" 

"Yeah, for the Sentinel stuff," Blair spoke quietly. "It's kind of an unofficial title." He allowed a soft chuckle to escape his throat. "I help you with your senses, keep you from zoning on the job." 

"Sentinel stuff?" Jim looked confused. "What Sentinel stuff?" 

"Your heightened senses," Blair explained, his voice strangled with concern. "You know..." 

Jim shook his head and smiled, the words meaning little to him. "You're my partner?" he asked, changing the subject back to something he understood. 

"We work together," Blair replied cautiously. "I'm an Anthropology student at Rainier University working on my doctoral thesis. You're my subject. I work as a consultant to the police department and ride along with you on your cases." 

The two men were interrupted when a doctor stepped through the door. "It's good to see you awake, Mr. Ellison," the doctor said as he approached the bed. "My name is Dr. Ochoa. I'm pleased to meet you." He held out his hand and Jim took it to shake. "I take it Mr. Sandburg, here, has filled you in on what happened?" 

"Yeah," Jim said, deciding against nodding. "When can I go home?" 

Dr. Ochoa checked the chart he held in his hand. "There's no serious injury from your fall, except for the loss of consciousness. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation. If everything checks out, I can send you home tomorrow." 

"I'd like to go home now," Jim insisted. 

"That wouldn't be advisable," the doctor warned. "You were unconscious for nearly an hour. The observation time will allow us to make certain there's nothing more serious going on inside your head." 

"What if Blair stays with me? He could call 911 if anything happened." Jim turned to look up at the young man standing next to him. Blair was frowning again. 

The doctor shook his head. "Too dangerous. You need your rest, and you need someone with medical experience to keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours. So long as everything goes smoothly, I'll release you tomorrow afternoon." 

Jim sighed, resigned to the fact he wasn't going to talk this particular doctor into letting him go home early. 

"He's lost some of his memory," Blair spoke up. 

The doctor looked up, surprise coloring his expression. "How much?" 

"He doesn't remember the accident," Blair explained. 

"That's not unusual for an injury of this type," the doctor told him. "Memory usually returns within a few days." 

"Or me," Blair interrupted. "He doesn't remember me, either." 

"Oh. Well, that's a bit more unusual," Ochoa admitted. "How much do you remember?" he asked, turning to Jim. 

"Name, rank, and serial number," Jim quipped. Quickly assessing the doctor's concern, he continued. "I remember the incident right up until the time of the accident. Everything else is clear as day except Blair, here. I don't know how I could ever forget him." The look of confusion returned. 

"I wouldn't be too concerned," the doctor assured him. Hanging the chart at the foot of the bed, he turned back to his patient. "I think you should try and get a little rest. Mr. Sandburg can return tomorrow to take you home." 

Jim turned his head to look at Blair. The young man averted his gaze, pretending to look out the window at the traffic below. "Could he stay a little longer?" 

Blair turned back to cast an unsettled look at the Sentinel. "You really ought to get some rest," he said quickly, edging around the bed to stand next to the doctor. "Maybe we'd better do like the doctor says. I'll go home and, um, I'll be by tomorrow to pick you up. Sleep well. Bye, Jim." 

Jim watched as the handsome young man turned toward the door. "Good-bye... Blair." The name was spoken softly, moments after its owner had disappeared into the hall. Jim sighed and closed his eyes, listening as the doctor also walked out, leaving him alone. 

~oO0Oo~ 

The aching in his head had subsided to a dull throb. He lay in his darkened room with only his thoughts to keep him company. A face swam into focus behind his closed eyelids: warm blue eyes, dark brown ringlets of hair haloed in red, full lips, a square jaw and a pair of silver earrings dangling from the left earlobe. Exquisite. Rare. Beautiful. Unforgettable... 

~oO0Oo~ 

"Hey, there, Jim!" Simon walked through the hospital room door the next afternoon with a wide smile on his face. "You're looking much better than you did yesterday. I would have stopped by last night, but Blair said the doctor had left orders that you needed your sleep." 

Jim nodded, looking around the big captain to the doorway. "Where's Blair? He was supposed to take me home." 

"He called and asked if I could do the honors," Simon explained. "Seems he got caught in some meeting to do with his dissertation... said he couldn't get out of it without risking his degree." 

"Oh." Jim fought to hide his disappointment. He had thought of little else besides the exceptional young man who had stood by his side when he woke from his sleep. "Well, thanks, Simon. I appreciate it." He slipped off the bed where he'd been sitting and gathered his belongings. "It'll be good to get out of here." 

~oO0Oo~ 

"All right, spit it out," Simon said later as they made their way through the afternoon traffic, headed for Jim's loft. "You've been brooding ever since I picked you up. I thought you _wanted_ to get home." 

"I do. I do... I just..." Jim fell silent. 

"You were expecting Blair, not me," Simon filled in, smiling at his detective. 

A pale blush highlighted Jim's cheeks. "Is it that obvious?" 

Simon hazarded a glance at Jim and chuckled. 

"What can you tell me about him?" 

Simon's look turned serious. "You really don't remember?" Jim shook his head. "You dragged him into my office a little over two years ago, and you've been unofficial partners ever since. Blair is studying your heightened senses for his thesis and helping you to control them for use on the job. You _really_ don't remember?" 

"No, sir. I don't remember a thing about him, and I can't understand why." Jim's voice held a note of tension. "How could I forget someone like him?" 

"That's a hard one to figure out," Simon agreed, chuckling once more. "The sun rises and sets on you in the kid's eyes. He adores you." 

"Are we... do we..." Jim stuttered, trying to find a way to delicately phrase his next question. "Sir, are we a couple?" 

Simon nearly choked on his cigar. Once the coughing fit had passed, he glanced again at the man seated next to him. "I don't know, Jim," he answered honestly. "If I were to judge, I'd say Sandburg has an industrial-sized crush on you, but if you two are 'doing it', you're not talking about it at work." 

"Have you ever seen him dating anyone?" Jim fidgeted in his seat, staring out the passenger side window as he spoke. His jaw twitched nervously. 

"He's practically gone through every woman who works at the station," Simon said, grinning. "And quite a few from the university, too, I understand." 

"Then maybe he's not into men," Jim said softly, turning his attention back to his captain. 

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Simon muttered, his cigar still clenched between his teeth. Sighing, he answered the implied question. "Rumors are always flying in the department, you know that," he began. "There are some who are convinced Sandburg is gay and the dating thing is just a cover-up. I mean, look at how he dresses, his long hair, those earrings..." 

"What do _you_ think, sir?" 

Simon shook his head. "They're just rumors. The kid has a hippie for a mother. That could account for his lack of taste in hairstyle and attire. I've never seen him with another man. He's as married to you as if you two were joined at the hip." 

The captain pulled his car into a parking space outside the loft apartment building. "Need any help getting inside?" 

"No, sir. I'll be fine," Jim answered, opening the car door. "Thanks for the ride." 

"I'll call you in an hour to see how you're doing," Simon told him. "If I weren't so swamped at work, I'd stay with you for a while." 

Jim leaned down to peer back into the car. "Don't worry about me, Simon. I'm going to be fine. The doctor said so. Besides, Blair promised to come check on me, didn't he?" 

"I'm sure he will, as soon as he gets out of his meeting," Simon agreed. "You take care. Make sure you get some rest." 

Jim made his way up to his third floor apartment. Opening the door, he looked around in shocked surprise. His spartan living space was spotted with color: a tribal mask decorated the wall over the stereo, carved figures and handmade dolls festooned the bookshelves. His mind reeled. What were these things doing here? 

There were pictures scattered around on various tabletops of him and Blair enjoying a variety of activities from fishing to attending black tie galas. He stooped to pick up one picture in particular. He and Blair were standing in the middle of a stream wearing hip waders and vests, and toting fly fishing rods. Blair was holding a net that contained a large trout and grinning ear to ear. Jim stood behind him, looking for all the world like a proud father. A memory he couldn't quite grasp flashed quickly through his mind. He set the picture back down and went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. 

Taking his refreshment over to the couch, he sat down. Obviously, Blair was an integral part of his life. _How_ integral was still to be seen, but it was clear to Jim that the young man was someone special. He sipped at the water as he examined his feelings. 

Even though he hadn't recognized his visitor when he had first awakened, he still had had the distinct feeling that Blair _belonged_ there. He had wanted so badly to reach out and hold, to be held by, the young man. His arms still ached with the desire. A part of him prayed fervently that they were lovers, while another part was scared senseless that they were not. He wanted the comfort of those arms, needed the strong embrace. A sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed absently at his groin, trying to massage away the ache. 

* * *

_Never before has someone been more_

_Unforgettable, in every way_

_And forever more, that's how you'll stay_

* * *

"Hey, Jim!" 

The cheerful voice woke Jim from his unscheduled nap. Rubbing at his right eye, he watched as the anthropology student made his way into the kitchen to snag a cold beer from the refrigerator. 

"Want one?" 

"Better not," Jim answered regretfully. "I'm still on the pain meds." 

Blair came over to perch on the edge of the couch. He took a sip of his beer, and then turned to study the man sitting next to him. "Feeling better?" 

"Yeah, much." Jim wondered at the hesitancy in the young man's voice. It was almost as if he was afraid to speak. 

"Sorry about this afternoon. I should have been there to pick you up," Blair apologized, not looking at Jim, but instead studying the condensation on the brown glass bottle he held. 

"Simon said you had a meeting you couldn't get out of," Jim responded, trying to ease the tension between them. "Is something wrong?" he asked after a pause. 

"No, nothing," Blair muttered. "It's just a little weird." He got up to put his unfinished beer back in the fridge, and then walked over to stand in front of the French doors to his room. 

"What's a little weird?" Jim asked, coming to stand next to him. 

The anthropologist turned to look at his friend. "This business about you not remembering me. It makes me feel..." he paused, searching his emotions for the right one. 

"How does it make you feel?" Jim moved in closer, until he was but a hair's breadth from the younger man. 

"Freaky. It feels freaky," Blair said with a sigh. "I mean, we spend all this time together, share the same space for two years, and now I'm a stranger. How weird is that?" 

"You live here." It was half statement, half question. Flashes of memory flitted through Jim's mind as he backed off a step, glancing at the French doors, then back at Blair. 

Blair frowned. "You don't remember that, either?" Shaking his head, he muttered, "Of course not. If you don't remember me, why should you remember that I live here?" He opened the door and gestured inside. "This is my room. When my warehouse apartment blew up two years ago, I talked you into letting me stay here for a week." 

"Looks like it turned out to be longer than a week," Jim said with a smirk. He peeked into the cramped room, not surprised to see an eclectic clutter decorating walls, tables, and floor. "We must get along pretty well." 

"Most of the time," Blair said with a grunt that was almost a chuckle. 

"You sleep in there, too?" Jim asked softly, looking at the unkempt futon. 

Blair's eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "Where else?" 

Jim took Blair by the elbow and pulled him back out into the dining area, where he could look up at the loft bedroom. "I thought maybe... I mean, it's a king-sized bed..." 

Blair's eyes softened and he began to tremble slightly. "N-no, Jim. I-I've never slept up there." 

Jim pulled Blair back over to the couch and handed the stricken man the bottle of water he had been drinking earlier. "Why not? Aren't you interested?" 

"I-I..." Blair was at a total loss. "I-I didn't think y-you were," he admitted. 

"Then I must be a clueless fool." Jim reached out to stroke a hand down the soft curls. "How could I not be attracted to you? Or maybe I was, but was too uptight to say anything?" 

Blair took a deep breath, recovering his equilibrium somewhat. "I always knew you felt things strongly and deeply," he began, "but you always were a master of suppressing your emotions." He leaned into the gentle touch, savoring the feel of Jim's fingers tangled in his hair. 

"If you could see it, why didn't you say something?" Jim was puzzled by the emotions he could sense lingering between them. There was attraction, but it was tempered by a healthy dose of fear. 

"I-I couldn't see it... in you," Blair answered. "That's the point. I couldn't see it. If I could have seen it... if... maybe..." 

"Maybe what, Chief?" He stopped the stroking and pulled Blair a little closer. "What would you have done?" 

"You probably don't remember," Blair began, "but my mom was one of the original hippies. She raised me to be open to all kinds of love. I was kind of a shy kid..." 

"I find that hard to believe," Jim interrupted, smiling warmly at the young man. 

"Well, I was," Blair confirmed. "Guys seemed a whole lot safer than girls when I first started experimenting." 

"But then you discovered girls," Jim teased. 

"Well, yeah. But I never completely lost interest in other men. I dated a few in college." 

"If it makes you feel any better," Jim interrupted again, "I dated a few men myself back in my college days." 

"Really?" Blair's eyes lit up at the morsel of information. "I didn't think..." 

"That's the problem with you, sometimes, Darwin," Jim said with a chuckle. "You don't think. For someone as bright as you are, you'd think you'd use that brainpower a little more." 

Blair's eyes narrowed. "Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You called me 'Darwin'." 

"Is that a problem?" Jim's lips turned down slightly into a frown. 

"You used to call me Darwin, occasionally. And Chief. You said that, too." 

"Maybe my memory is starting to come back?" Jim didn't relinquish his hold on the younger man. Instead, he all but pulled Blair into his lap. 

"I dunno, Jim," Blair muttered, letting himself be pulled. "Maybe we're better off this way." 

"What do you mean?" Jim took the opportunity to gaze deeply into blue eyes darkened by doubt. 

"Well, uh, I mean..." Blair stammered, suddenly at a loss again. "It feels like something's happening here, man, and I don't think I want that to change." 

"Why does it have to?" Jim let his thumb brush over the quivering lips, feeling their incredible softness. "I think I was always attracted to you. But, like you say, I've never been good at expressing myself. I've been hurt too many times, Blair. Maybe I was just afraid of being hurt again." 

"I'd never hurt you," Blair said softly, letting his eyes close as he leaned in closer to Jim. 

Jim accepted the implied offer and pressed his lips against Blair's. At first, there was only the softness of the velvety flesh, but then Blair's mouth opened to him and Jim took a chance. Sweeping his tongue inside, he tasted the man he held in his arms. When he met no resistance, he continued to explore; tasting, touching, smelling. His hearing picked up the rapid tattoo of Blair's heartbeat, the rush of blood through his veins, the harsh, gasping breath when he finally broke the kiss. The sight that met his eyes nearly sent him over the edge. 

Blair was flushed, a light sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. His eyes were at half-mast, watching Jim. He still clung tightly to the Sentinel, as if afraid to let go. 

"Promise me," Jim whispered. "Promise that you'll never hurt me." 

Blair opened his eyes a bit wider and looked intently into Jim's. "I promise." 

"Promise you'll never forget me." 

"I could never forget you." Blair's words were like a benediction. 

With that promise, Jim stood up, pulling Blair with him, and started for the stairs to his bedroom. Unexpectedly, Blair stopped. 

"Chief?" 

"Jim, aren't we rushing this a bit?" the younger man asked. "I mean you just got out of the hospital this afternoon. Don't you think you ought to take it a little easy for a few days?" 

"I've got sick leave coming," Jim countered. "And it's a holiday weekend, so you don't have to be back at the university for three days. I figure that three days of bed rest ought to just about do it." 

"Do what? Kill us both?" Jim tugged at Blair's arm, but the anthropologist refused to budge. "Jim, we can't go from best friends to lovers just like that." He snapped his fingers. "Besides, your memory is starting to come back. Maybe we should wait and see how you feel when it does." 

"I don't plan on it feeling any different," Jim said, smiling. " _Besides_ ," he continued, echoing Blair's statement, "who said my memory wasn't already back?" 

"Is it?" This time Blair allowed himself to be led up the stairs as he listened in fascination to the answer. 

"Two years, three months and... six days ago, a geeky kid in glasses and sneakers, wearing a lab coat, accosted me at the doctor's office," he began, pushing Blair toward the bed. "The next thing I knew, I was in your office, being told I was a throwback to the cavemen." 

"Pre-civilized man," Blair corrected as his knees connected with the mattress and he sat down abruptly. 

Jim began working the buttons on Blair's shirt. "Almost before I knew what was happening, you had become my partner and observer, following me everywhere. When your warehouse exploded, you even managed to convince me to take you and your monkey into my home." 

"Barbary Ape," Blair squeaked as Jim's thumbs brushed across his nipples, hardening them to firm points. 

"Whatever," Jim murmured, working at the buckle of Blair's belt. "You did come in kind of handy, though," he admitted. "When I accidentally dosed on the designer drug Golden and was blinded, you taught me how to use my other senses to get around." 

"You... y-you j-just had to g-get past concentrating on w-what you'd l-lost," Blair gasped, panting shallowly as Jim pulled down his jeans and boxers, exposing his hard, leaking penis to the cool air. 

Jim stared at the bobbing organ, which waved proudly with each gasping inhale of breath. "You also overcame your fear of heights to come with me to Peru to rescue our captain," Jim said, leaning over the cock so that his breath as he spoke whispered across the moist glans. 

Blair shuddered, barely holding his climax at bay. 

Abruptly, Jim stood and began to shed his own clothing as he looked down on the naked body of his soon-to-be lover. "I remember every detail, everything about you," he whispered. "And I remember how I feel." He crawled onto the bed next to Blair, gathering the smaller man into his arms and pressing his erection against its mate. 

Blair ground himself against Jim, creating a friction that spiraled them nearer and nearer to their mutual climax. Jim moaned as the pressure built in his groin. 

"Oh, God... JIM!" Blair cried as his orgasm swept through his body. Jim nuzzled closer, pulling the sated man more tightly against him. Whispered words sent blossoming warmth through Jim's soul. "You're pretty unforgettable, too." 

* * *

_That's why, darling, it's incredible_

_That someone so unforgettable_

_Thinks that I am unforgettable too_

* * *

* * *

End Unforgettable by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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